


When the Tables Turn

by ebony415



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Austro-German Alliance, Bosnian Crisis, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, F/M, Italy is One Country, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Very Dubious Consent, triple alliance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13108035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebony415/pseuds/ebony415
Summary: Austria has always been a powerful and proud nation. So when Germany, an arrogant young upstart, approaches her to negotiate an alliance against Russia, Austria thinks he will be easy to control. Almost as easy as her weak, malleable, and infinitely forgiving husband, Hungary.But fate has something else in store for Austria, and she soon finds out that this young upstart is much stronger than she had first thought. Strong enough to turn her world upside down.





	1. A Visitor in Vienna

_Vienna, Austria_

_September 1879_

“Austria?” asks Hungary, knocking at his wife’s door. “Austria!”

“What is it?” she asks irritably, glaring at him. “I swear to you, if this is as pointless as the last time—”

Hungary shrinks back meekly. Men may rule elsewhere, but ever since he wed Austria twelve years ago, she has controlled him completely. They are hardly the most united couple; the two of them still issue separate passports and conduct their affairs in their native languages, but everyone knows that Austria makes the decisions for both of them. Hungary spends little time in his own capital now. Vienna is his home, and if her capital isn’t good enough for him, he isn’t good enough for her.

Hungary wants to be good enough for Austria. He hopes that someday she will come to Budapest with him, and that she will love his capital as he does. He hopes that she will issue the same passport as him, and that she will allow him to have a bit more power over their lands. He hopes that she will finally begin to treat his citizens as equals to hers, equals in more than just name. But most importantly, he wants the powerful nation to love him. He has been so alone for so long, while Austria can have anyone she wants. She’s always had anyone she wants; no one would dare to refuse her.

Including him.

He wants to know that Austria wants _him_ , and him alone. He wants to be more than a jewel in his wife’s crown, a figurehead that will stand behind her. So he puts up with all of her outbursts, and never protests when she makes policy decisions for both of them. He learns German and calls all their important visitors to Vienna, where Austria can take charge as always; he issues separate passports to his citizens and allows Austria to subject them to the torment of never being good enough; he does anything she asks of him and more, just for a chance with her.

So, when Germany, a young and newly unified nation, begs for a visit with Austria ( _Austria,_ not the Austro-Hungarian Empire), Hungary swallows his pride and tells Germany politely in his best German, “I will ask her on your behalf.”

Hungary may be a weaker nation, and he may be wed to one of the most powerful nations on the Continent, but his blood boils at the thought of playing courier for a nation that has not lived even a decade. He hates it even more because of the little smirk that twisted Austria’s lips when she heard of Germany’s unification. Germany may be dangerous and he may be the sort of upstart Austria doesn’t need, but she loves the idea of another German-speaking nation rising to prominence.

Hungary may forgive Austria everything, but he still knows that Germany wrote many letters to her, and that Austria replied only occasionally, leading him on. He knows that Austria complained about him, calling him an impotent failure of a nation, and that Germany had written her at one point, "If only I were by your side, dearest Austria. I would protect you and please you in ways Hungary could never..."

How could Germany protect Austria? How could anyone protect Austria? For as long as Hungary has ever known her, Austria has protected herself.

But Germany insisted on seeing her, and Hungary knows that Austria would be furious to know that Germany had come to Vienna for her, and her husband had failed to tell her. So, knowing his pause had been far too long, and that he had appeared just as impotent as she had told Germany that he was, he says, "Austria, Germany wants to see you."

"Germany?" asks Austria, that familiar and hateful smirk appearing on her face. "That young upstart wants to see me? Does he expect me to come to him in Berlin?"

"You would go to him?" gasps Hungary, shocked that Austria would consider such a thing. She never leaves Vienna. She never feels the need to leave Vienna, because Vienna is where her heart is. If she would leave Vienna for this young upstart, this nation who she loves and hates all at once...

"Do you not know me?" Austria laughs. "Men come to  _me._ If Germany wants to see me, I will see him, but I will not come to Berlin. Or anywhere else, for that matter. He can come to Vienna."

She turns away from him, and for a sudden, suicidal moment, Hungary wants to let Austria think that Germany will only see her in Berlin. Let Austria and Germany rage and shout at each other about something that didn't even happen. Other nations do it to him all the time, and Austria doesn't even have the decency to apologize for thinking the worst of him.

No. He can't do that. 

He has to prove himself to Austria. He always, always has to be there for Austria.

"He is already in Vienna," Hungary says slowly.

"Oh, is he?" asks Austria, smirking again. "Interesting. Where?"

"Not far from here. He is desperate to see you; he kept talking about Russia, and how he needs you, and how you need him," Hungary says, trying and failing to cover up the pain in his voice.

Austria laughs a little. "I don't need Germany," she says, looking Hungary straight in the eye, and he feels a little relieved. "But Germany is damn right that he needs me. That young upstart doesn't know a thing about how it works here on the Continent. He gets all his ideas from England and America, those imperialistic sons of bitches who know  _nothing_ of longevity or suffering. If Germany thinks he can come to my own capital and spout nonsense about me needing him..."

Now  _this_ is the Austria that Hungary knows. The Austria that would (rightly) kill Germany for suggesting such a thing, or for showing up in Vienna.

"Do you want me to send him away?" asks Hungary hopefully.

"No," says Austria, and his heart sinks. 

"But you just said..."

"Let Germany come to me, if he is so desperate. But he will quickly learn that I do not take kindly to arrogant nations, especially not young upstarts like him. He doesn't know what he has coming for him," she says.

That makes Hungary smile. He likes the idea of Austria showing Germany his place. Perhaps Austria will think Germany is the impotent one, and think a bit more kindly of her long-suffering husband, who is so much wiser and so much humbler.

"Go, Hungary," says Austria, her voice somewhat softer than before. "Go to Germany, and tell him that I will see him."

Hungary leaves to do his wife's bidding, just as he has always done, and just as he will always do. He hates that Germany will see him as so subservient and meek ( _impotent,_ as Austria had told him so often), but he swallows his pride, as he does every time. 

Perhaps things will finally go well. Perhaps Austria will lose her odd obsession with her fellow German-speaking nation once she meets him, and return to the nation that she  _married._ Perhaps in meeting the nation she thinks might finally solve her problems, she will realize that the man she married is actually good enough for her.

And that Germany is not.

He thinks only of that as he walks up to the inn Germany is staying in. He refuses to think of Austria ever leaving him, especially for this young upstart who she had never thought well of before his unification. She will always be strong, while Germany will always be weak. And she will always be his, while Germany will always be alone.

That is how it must be. 

How could it be any other way?

 


	2. Dual Alliance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: non-con. It isn't very explicit, though, or very long.

_Vienna, Austria_

_October 1879_

"Germany," says Austria, smiling lazily. "You came."

"Yes, of course," says Germany, trying to sound more confident than he feels. Hungary has not been kind to him (not that he expected otherwise), and Austria has been surprisingly slow to meet with him. For a young nation that has not been out of Berlin before, being in Vienna, and being in the presence of one of the most powerful nations on the Continent, is terrifying.

"Hungary says you want an alliance with me," she says, not bothering with pleasantries. "Tell me, Germany, is this so?"

"Yes," says Germany again.

She laughs a little. "Of course you do, little one. Of course you want an alliance with me; they all do. Perhaps this is the question I should ask you: Why should I want an alliance with you?"

Germany's heart hammers in his chest and nerves threaten to overcome him, but he cannot let Austria see that. "Because we have a common enemy," he replies. "Russia. I swear to you, Austria, with me by your side, you will not have to fear him."

"I have Hungary. What need do I have of you?" she replies.

He had been afraid of this, afraid that she would claim her husband already counts for an ally. More than that, even; he cannot leave her. What binds them is more than a single agreement.

"I don't believe Hungary does enough for you," says Germany boldly. "If he did, you would not be here with me. You would have dismissed me right away and told me that you are already defended against Russia."

Austria is quiet for a moment, and Germany is afraid that he has offended her. Then she smirks, and says, "Clever one, aren't you? All right. I am looking for an alliance. But I could have any nation in Europe, Germany. Why you?"

"We are very similar. We speak the same language, and we share a border. You're more like me than you are like Hungary, really. And I am an industrial power. I may be young, but I promise you, I can protect you. I can build you up industrially until the two of us can rival any nation."

"I know many languages, and I can expand my borders until I share a border with anyone. Hungary is bound to me; it does not matter if he is similar to me," says Austria dismissively, and Germany's heart sinks. She will not accept him.

"However," she says, "the industry does interest me. You are not militarily my equal, you know that. But with my military and your industry, we could truly be a force to be reckoned with. Russia would be a fool to do anything against us. However, I do not know if you would be in this for the long term. I know very little about you."

"Five years, then," says Germany. "An alliance for five years, and if it works, we can renew it."

Austria raises an eyebrow. "That is more than half your life."

Germany doesn't know what to say to that. She's right, and he doesn't even know if he will last that long, but he has to appear confident. Austria  _has_ to approve of him. He needs her, at least for now. If he can get her to agree to just five years with him, he knows he'll be able to survive.

He cannot face Russia alone, and he hopes with every part of him that she thinks she cannot either.

"Austria," he says softly, "haven't I already proven myself to you? Bosnia...I have given you Bosnia."

She smiles, thinking of the conference just a year ago. "Yes," she says. "You have, haven't you? I suppose you're right. That does count for something."

Germany smiles brightly. "So...you'll consider it?"

Austria smirks, looking at Germany in a way he doesn't quite understand. "I want to know who I am allying with. Come to me, Germany. Come and show me your prowess, and then I will see if we have a future as allies."

 

 

Austria sends Hungary away that night, finally giving him permission to visit Budapest. She smiles at how naive her husband is; he thinks this is progress, that she is finally seeing him as more of an equal. He has no idea that she is considering an alliance with Germany, an alliance that he would never approve of. She'll let him think that she hates Germany, up until the moment she announces her alliance with him to the world.

Just hours later, Germany arrives for what he thinks is a meeting. Austria, sitting on her bed, calls to him, "I'm in here, Germany."

She stands up to greet him, then looks him up and down slowly. He may be a young upstart, but he is a strong, well-built nation. She knows he isn't lying about his industrial might; smirking, she wonders if his prowess extends beyond industry.

"A-Austria?" asks Germany, his voice shaking slightly. "What sort of meeting is this?"

"You want to please me, don't you?" asks Austria imperiously. "Isn't that what you told me? 'I can protect you and please you in ways Hungary could never?'"

"If this isn't a political meeting, I-I shouldn't..." he says nervously, as Austria advances. He steps back as she steps forward; his back finally hits the wall, and he forces himself to meet her eyes. 

She smirks lasciviously, murmurs, "Oh, Germany, don't deny me this," and kisses him forcefully.

At first, he resists her; then, she can feel his resistance melt away, and he allows her to do what she wants with him. Or at least, up to a point. When she unzips his trousers, he gasps and pulls away from her. "No," he says softly. "I can't."

Austria's eyes harden. "Then get out. Get out, and take all plans for an alliance with you!"

She turns her back on him, feeling humiliated. How  _dare_ Germany. She hates him for his arrogance, and she hates him for being wrong, and she hates him for being right, but most of all, she hates him for denying her. She has grown so used to Hungary's submissiveness, she expects the same of Germany without thinking.

For a moment, she thinks that Germany is going to walk out, but then he cries out, "No, no! Please, Austria..."

She turns back to him, and he whispers, "I want an alliance. I  _need_ an alliance."

She lets out a short, mirthless laugh. "I know you do."

"If I don't...are you going to refuse me that?" he asks.

"You know the answer to that."

Austria watches him carefully, watches as worry and doubt and fear all flash through his mind, before he moves closer to her and kisses her gently. "Then I am yours, Austria," he murmurs against her lips. "I am yours for the night."

"Yes _,_ " whispers Austria, guiding Germany to her bed. " _Yes,_ " she repeats as she presses him down and takes him into her, taking what she wants from this young upstart who wants so desperately to please her. " _Yes!_ " she cries as she nears her peak, clasping him against her and taking him faster, more forcefully.

Germany is exhausted when they are done; he collapses beside her, and falls asleep almost instantly. 

 

 

Germany's heart leaps into his throat when he wakes up beside Austria and remembers the events of the previous night. For a moment, he fears that she will think him weak and impotent now, but then, with a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realizes that she already must. He lay beneath her, after all, letting her have her way with him, terrified that she would withdraw her support against Russia. And she still might, after all that.

She keeps her word to him; they draw up an agreement before Hungary even returns to Vienna, pledging their support to each other in case of attack by Russia. Germany's industry is just as impressive as he had told her, and Austria's military is just as willing to fight as she had told him. 

The Dual Alliance.

Russia has reason to fear them now.

And Germany has reason to fear Austria, whenever he thinks back to that night in her bedroom, that night when she had complete control over him. He shivers whenever he thinks of it. No one has ever gotten the better of him like that. He knows he needed to do it, to please Austria, but he hates the idea of someone being in control of him like that.

There's still something about her that both scares and delights him, and although he knows he has to keep her close, he is afraid to.

She is a flame, the brightest flame on the Continent, and she could still burn him out. 

He cannot let her.


	3. My Old Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should warn you that this is very long, and somewhat explicit (you have already seen Austria's desires in the previous chapter...you know what to expect). There is no non-con in this, but there is something you might consider dub-con (which, again, you probably expect of Austria now). Merry Christmas and enjoy! :)

_Vienna, Austria_

_May 1882_

"Austria," says Hungary, some bitterness streaking his voice, "Germany is here to see you."

"What, again?" says Austria, smirking a little. "Is he in Vienna again? Or does he want me to come to Berlin?"

Hungary knows that Austria would not go to Berlin. She has told him so, again and again, as she assured him that her alliance with Germany did not mean the end of her marriage with him. She has murmured it into his ear late at night, that "the young fool," "the damned upstart," would not take her away from him. But whenever she asks that question: "Does he want me to come to Berlin?" like he has some power over her, like she considers them equals, when she has never extended the same courtesy to him, it is a jab to his heart all the same.

He wonders if Germany considers himself an equal of Austria. Certainly not; if he was an equal, he would ask her to come to him now and again, rather than come to Vienna asking her husband if he would be granted an audience with her. No, Austria keeps Germany at a distance, and Germany would be a fool not to see it. Austria can see nothing but power, he knows, so she cannot have too much fondness for her fellow German-speaking nation.

Her closest ally, now.

_No_ , he thinks, upset and angry all at once, _I am her closest ally. She is bound to me by more than a five-year agreement._

"Hungary," says Austria sternly, breaking through his thoughts. "I asked you a question. Is Germany in Vienna?"

"Yes," says Hungary. "He has come to you, as before."

"Is it about Russia?" she asks, somewhat lazily, barely bothering to even look at him. Then, suddenly, her eyes widen, and she says in a somewhat dismayed tone, "Or is he here to end the alliance? Does he no longer wish to be bound to me?"

"Would that upset you?" asks Hungary.

"Damn you and your character study of me, Hungary. Tell me if Germany wants to end the Dual Alliance!"

The Dual Alliance. It sounds so official like that, and that is certainly how their leaders would speak of it, but it hurts Hungary to hear it. Although he knows that he is technically part of her alliance with Germany, and that by the terms of it, Germany would have to protect him, too, he knows that Germany is in it for Austria. He needs Austria.

"I don't think so," replies Hungary. "But he was talking about someone else...another friend of his, I believe. Italy."

" _Italy?_ " says Austria, her eyes flashing. "He _dares_ to come to Vienna and talk about _her?_ My old enemy, now the lover of my ally. Damn them both!"

"Lovers?" says Hungary. "I never said anything about that."

Austria laughs, bitterly. "You should know better than anyone else what an alliance entails."

Hungary gasps. "So you and Germany..."

She laughs again at that. "Yes."

Hungary does not know about the night that Austria and Germany created and consummated their alliance. He does not know how she pressed Germany against the wall of her bedroom ( _their_ bedroom) and how she cared little for Germany's protests, taking what she wanted until Germany was completely exhausted. In his mind, Germany was the one to seduce her; in his mind, he was loving and gentle with her, and held her close all night.

"When was this?" cries Hungary, anger and sadness scraping his voice raw.

"Your first night in Budapest," replies Austria passively. "The day before an alliance between us and Germany was announced."

"So that is what an alliance means to you," whispers Hungary. "You do not love me."

"Did you expect me to?" asks Austria, even more cruelly now. "You, an impotent nation who can do little but expand my borders? Whose native tongue is not the same as mine, whose culture is not the same as mine, whose damned passports are not the same as mine? You, who would insist again and again, as I had to support you, that you were my  _equal?_ "

"But you love Germany."

Her voice is bitter as she spits at him, "I do not love Germany. I do not even  _trust_ Germany."

"But you have slept with him!" Hungary shouts.

He expects her to throw him out, to threaten him, but she only smirks at him. It's  _that_ smirk, the one only Germany can bring out, the smirk that he hates above all else. "Yes, Hungary, I have," she murmurs, drawing closer to him. "He has  _stamina_ for a young nation, you know, and he was so utterly  _unresisting..._ have you ever been with an industrialized power, Hungary? The strength they have, the power they have...it's intoxicating. And when someone is so helpless, as Germany was that night..."

Her laughter rings in his ears, and his eyes glaze over, thoughts of Austria and Germany overtaking him. He isn't sure whether to cry or shout at her; then again, he is certain she will throw him out if he does either.

"No, I have not been with an industrialized power," spits Hungary. "You certainly aren't one, and I am faithful to you,  _wife,_ even though you don't grant me the same courtesy."

"Oh, don't speak of your gallantry," says Austria mockingly. "You and I both know why you are faithful to me, and it has nothing to do with upholding your vows. Those mean nothing. Nations break promises to each other all the time; it is the way diplomacy works. No nation will take you to bed, because you are so passive, you know nothing of seduction or persuasion. And they are all so afraid of me. They would not want to anger me by bedding my husband."

"I'm not worthless, you know," says Hungary. 

"Oh, Hungary," she says softly, "in the eyes of every nation on the Continent, you are."

He isn't sure if he should blame her for accepting Germany, or Germany for going to her, or himself for not being enough for her. He isn't sure what to think and who to blame, but he hates them all, Austria and Germany and his own damn self, for the barrier that has gone up between him and his wife.

"Then I don't know why you remain wed to me," says Hungary, pain streaking his voice. "You should marry Germany."

"And alarm all of Europe? Two German-speaking nations uniting in marriage, with no one to stop them from overtaking the rest of the Continent? Dearest husband, you must know better than that. And, after all, this young upstart still has a lot to learn."

She mocks him, she always mocks him, but he is a fool to expect anything else.

"Go and find him, Hungary. Bring him here," she orders.

"I want to go to Budapest," says Hungary. "I want nothing to do with your affair. And I miss my capital. My home."

He has never referred to his capital as his home before, knowing it would infuriate Austria, but now, knowing that Austria has brought another lover into their home, he does not care.

Her eyes flash, but she says, "Fine. Bring Germany here, and then leave for Budapest. If you want to turn your back on the Dual Alliance, you have my permission."

They are no longer just Austria and Germany to her. They are the  _Dual Alliance,_ just as he and Austria are the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Even though the world views him as Austria's partner, even though the world views Germany as an ally of them both, the three of them know better. It is a dual alliance, after all, between Austria and Germany; there is no room for him.

And he cannot stop them.

He walks out obediently, tears pooling in his eyes, as he goes to find Germany.

 

 

"Germany," murmurs Austria as he walks towards her. "Closest ally, dearest friend."

"Yes," says Germany, bridging the distance between them with a kiss. "Closest ally, dearest friend."

He does not speak of Italy, and she is grateful for that. He doesn't seem so hesitant now, or so helpless; he has every mark of a powerful nation, and he touches her without worry. Certainly no other nation would do this, but she is not dismayed by it; finally, she will have a willing partner.

"Oh, I have  _missed_ you, Germany," Austria purrs. "Three years since we last met...since we last  _touched_..."

"Yes," he murmurs against her lips. "It has been so long..."

"You certainly don't take much convincing now," she notes, letting her hand run down his side. "It's almost as though you were thinking of me...wanting me..."

She presses against him, her hand caressing him through his trousers, and he whispers, "Oh,  _Austria_..."

"Yes?" she asks, her strokes harder and more insistent, her other hand going to the buckle of his belt.

"I kept thinking of you after I left Vienna," says Germany. "All I could think of was you...my first...my  _only_..."

"First and only?" laughs Austria, withdrawing his belt from his trousers. "You cannot be serious. Italy..."

"That is now," says Germany softly, not denying it but not wanting her to think of Italy as a serious competitor. "I had never had a woman before you, Austria. There had been flirtations, yes, but never...never anything like this. You were so beautiful, so perfect."

"I took you by force, Germany." Her words come out a bit too cold, and she softens her tone, adding, "Do not romanticize it."

"You certainly don't have to force me now," he says, and she laughs, kissing him more ardently and leading him to bed.

 

 

She is just as he remembers, all force and hunger and desperation, but he is not the scared, shaking virgin he had been three years ago. Three years as Austria's ally had taught him much, and the rest Italy had shown him. 

Italy is nothing like her, and Austria revels in that, he knows. Austria does everything in her life with vicious force, while Italy is more hesitant. Austria prides herself on controlling other nations; she prides herself on being feared, even if few love her.

She is a predator, and although he is not used to this, he cannot help but enjoy it. She forces a cry of, " _Austria!_ " from his lips, and smirks, taking him into her.

Germany may be more experienced now, but she can still exhaust him rather easily. He collapses beside her, and for many moments there is only the sound of their labored breathing. Austria recovers first, waiting for Germany with an almost maternal smile.

"Hungary knows," says Austria softly when Germany finally sits up. 

"Knows what? We announced the alliance to the world," says Germany.

"Of course. The entire Continent knows of our alliance, but no one knows of the night before. Well, Hungary does, now."

"Is he angry?" asks Germany, suddenly worried. Austria is the more powerful of the two, but he does not need any more enemies, especially not Hungary. She may not love him, but she will try her best to keep him. He is her husband, after all.

"Of course," repeats Austria. "I am his wife, after all, and he never much liked you. He called you 'the young fool,' 'the damned upstart,' you know, anything to make fun of you. I don't pay Hungary any mind, and neither should you. He is a weak nation who has little power over anyone, least of all me."

"I don't want him as an enemy," says Germany softly. 

"You're afraid of Hungary?" laughs Austria. "God, he is the simplest nation I have ever met. And if you are so afraid of my idiot of a husband, why did you come back to Vienna? You have plenty to think about back in Berlin, what with all your industry and social reforms, and you could always go to Rome, if you found your own capital too stifling."

"Rome?"

She glares at him, making him nervous. He doesn't like it when Austria is angry with him; it scares him. He says quickly, "I came to Vienna because I could not stop thinking about you. And you should know, I have never been to Rome."

"She always comes to Berlin?" asks Austria, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. I only come to you," says Germany.

That makes her smile a little, and Germany relaxes, closing his eyes. "Politics are so complicated," he complains softly.

"Let's not talk politics," murmurs Austria, her lips soft on Germany's. "There is plenty of time for that in the morning."

 

 

The two nations wake up together, just as they had three years before. Austria smiles at her still-sleepy ally; he clearly does not have her early mornings and her late, punishing nights. Then again, he does not have to navigate the choppy diplomatic waters, being so young. And he is not wed to a nation who takes endless reassuring, as she is.

"Why did you really come to Vienna?" asks Austria softly. 

"I...I wanted to renegotiate the alliance," says Germany.

"Of course you did," says Austria. "What is it, then? What do you want? Do you want to make it permanent? Or do you want to cut ties with me?"

"Neither," he says, and she raises an eyebrow at him.

"I was hoping that we could...expand our alliance," says Germany after a long pause.

"Expand it? How so?" she asks.

"I...I wanted to include Italy," says Germany, sending Austria's blood boiling immediately. Sensing her fury, he says, "You wouldn't have to defend her militarily, of course--that would be my responsibility alone. And you would still be my closest ally, no matter what, but she would be a good addition to this."

"For you!" shouts Austria. "She and I have been enemies since her unification! Does that mean  _nothing_ to you, Germany?"

"I knew you wouldn't like it," says Germany. "But she and I have promised our support to each other, and..."

"Another alliance. You have another alliance. Do I mean nothing to you?" snaps Austria.

"No, no! It's not another alliance. It's...informal."

How dare he promise his support to another nation without consulting her? How dare he try to bring his new lover into their existing alliance, like she is merely a pawn that he can shift aside? How dare he come to Vienna, and talk about what a good addition Italy would be while lying in her bed?

"Austria," says Germany softly, kissing her, "I need you, all right? And Italy needs me, but I am not enough for her. She needs you, too. She needs your support, and in return you can take whatever you like from her, really."

Austria laughs. "I would like to take her life."

"Don't," says Germany, too quickly, and Austria arches an eyebrow at him.

She caresses Germany's cheek, before moving her hand lower and encircling his neck. "I could take yours, you know," she murmurs. "Right here, in Vienna...you know that, don't you?"

"Yes," he whispers. "I know."

"If you really want Italy to join us," she says, increasing the pressure she's putting on Germany's neck, "make it worth my while."

 

 

Germany sits beside Italy in the room they're staying in, waiting for Austria. He's afraid of what she might think, but for his and Italy's sake, they need Italy to join the alliance. Italy needs Austria's support, and Germany's military, and Germany needs Italy's support. Austria needs little from Italy, but she likes to spread her influence wherever she can.

"You worry too much," murmurs Italy, kissing Germany. He can't help but give in to her, and they press against each other, his lips on hers, until a loud, bitter voice rings through the air.

"Disentangle yourselves. We have important business to discuss," snaps Austria.

She dominates the meeting, as he knew she would, taking every opportunity to make a snide comment about Italy and snap at Germany for his inability to commit to one person. But, despite her hatred of Italy, she grudgingly agrees to an alliance with both of them.

"I am not sending my military to help you," says Austria, glaring at Italy. "I'm sure your lover can do that for you."

"Then I'm not going to help you," replies Italy, her usually soft voice streaked with defiance.

"Like I need you!" snaps Austria. "If you haven't noticed, young upstarts, I have been around far longer and have reached far greater power than both of you combined.  _Germany_ is an industrial power and has potential. You are a Mediterranean vixen clinging to her burned-out capital, Rome, and clinging to her lover, who will always have to support her."

"Austria..." Germany protests, knowing Italy is going to be furious with him later.

"Silence, Germany. Need I remind you that you need me, too?"

Germany falls silent, and Italy looks to him beseechingly. He wants to come to Italy's aid, but he knows that Austria will be furious, and he really doesn't want to cause any more trouble in the Dual Alliance. Austria is his most important ally, and he cannot afford for her to abandon him. 

Austria takes a long breath, then says in a constricted voice, "As much as it disgusts me, I will allow Italy into this alliance. Germany and I will retain all of our previous agreements to defend each other in the case of attack by Russia. Italy, if someone makes war on you, then I will assist you  _only_ in tandem with Germany; you will do the same for me. If you start a war, I will remain neutral, and I expect you to do the same for me."

"That sounds reasonable," says Italy quickly, glad to have Austria's support in some form.

"I wouldn't care if you thought otherwise. Germany, get up. I need to have a private word with my closest ally."

She can tell Germany's fear by the way he's looking at her, and that makes her smile. He deserves no less for bringing Italy into her capital, and into their alliance.

 

 

Germany knows he's in trouble by the look in Austria's eyes. She leads him out to where her carriage is parked, and snaps, "Get in the carriage."

She doesn't speak a word to him the whole time, until they stop in front of her palace. She opens the door for him, and calls, "Get out."

Her tone has not grown any friendlier.

She guides him through the halls of her palace, all the way to her bedroom, snapping at any guards who question what she's doing, leading another nation through like this. They see the terror on his face, and wonder what he has done to anger her so.

She slams the door behind them, and turns on Germany with a furious glare. "So, you've gotten what you wanted," snaps Austria. "Your lover is part of our alliance. She is bound to you, to me, to  _us._ I have agreed to your plans of a triple alliance, as though ours was not enough."

"Austria," says Germany softly, but she raises a hand to quiet him.

"The entire Continent will laugh at me now. Not only did I fail to prevent her unification, I am now taking her as an ally!" she shouts.

"No one will laugh at you! No one would dare! They are all afraid of you!"

Austria laughs bitterly at him. "They won't be now!"

She sits on her bed and lets out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob. The intense glare in her eyes hasn't changed, but a deep sadness has passed over her. She is failing, she is declining. Germany has seen the look of an empire in decline; he has, after all, met the Ottoman Empire, and the look of despair in the Arab man's eyes was not easy to forget.

He never thought he would see the day that even a fragment of that look passed over Austria.

"Austria," he says, his voice apologetic and beseeching, "Austria, my dearest friend, my closest ally..."

"That is what you should call Italy, now," says Austria, refusing to look at him.

"No," says Germany. "Italy is not your equal. She will never be."

"Neither will you," she says, finally letting all her bitterness show through. "Neither of you are my equals. You are  _mine,_ Germany, and you ought not to forget it."

He doesn't like the sound of that, but he knows better than to protest. "Yes, I am," he says. "I am yours. I won't forget it."

"You already have."

"No, no," he says, grasping at straws to try to quiet the other nation's anger. Then, seizing on something he thinks might work, he says, "We all know you are the most powerful member of this Alliance. Hungary, Italy, and I...we all belong to you. With this Alliance, you simply have another nation that must pledge something to you."

Austria laughs. "Should I claim her the way I have claimed both of you?"

The idea of that repulses Germany, fragile Italy being taken so brutally as he was, but he refuses to let her see his affection for the younger, weaker nation. Austria would see it as a crack in their alliance, and proof that an industrial nation like him still has ties that he cannot break to someone other than her.

"Do what you will," he says.

A smirk passes across Austria's face, and faster than blinking, Germany finds himself on his back, with her above him. She kisses him fiercely, then undoes his belt, caressing him with a skillful, but forceful, hand. He cannot help the small gasp that escapes him, and her smirk broadens.

If he thought the first time was hard and fast, it was nothing compared to this. She sets the pace, and  _God_ it is punishing; he cries out and she laughs, calling, "Does Italy do this to you? Can she make you feel the way I do?"

"N-no!" he manages to get out. "No one can!"

He cannot refuse her, he knows, but he doesn't even want to; as demeaning as it is to be at Austria's mercy like this (and he knows that is why she does this to him, time after time), she's right that no one else can make him feel this way.

"Austria!" he cries. "Oh, Austria, God, please..."

He keeps pleading with her all night long, until she is finally exhausted. She lays down and he lays beside her, but she laughs again, albeit more quietly. "Oh no, Germany," she says. "You cannot stay here. Go find your mistress. Come home to her satisfied and smelling like me. And when she asks what I wanted from you, tell her. Tell her how you lay beneath me and cried out for more all night long...how I had complete control over you..."

He does not want to tell Italy about this; he has never said a word about being Austria's lover, although he doubts Italy would be surprised. Austria, noticing his hesitation, murmurs lasciviously, "Maybe I'll show her. I wonder how she would feel...if she would plead like you, cry out like you..."

"She would not consent."

Austria, smirking cruelly now, replies, "Do you think that has ever stopped me?"

Germany is playing with fire, he knows, and for a moment he regrets bringing Italy into this, no matter how desperate she was for support, even from Austria. Now both he and Italy could be consumed by her flames; he knows she could still burn them to ashes, no matter how much she feels she is declining, and he is desperately afraid of her because of it.

 

 

Hungary is alone in Budapest, thinking of Austria and hating Germany, when he hears the announcement.

A great Triple Alliance has been created, linking three of the most powerful nations on the Continent: the Austro-Hungarian and German Empires, as well as the Kingdom of Italy.

Italy? Austria's old enemy?

Does Germany have that much power over her?

He cannot bring himself to fume about it now; he only closes his eyes, listening to the messenger tell him how Austria signed for both of them, making all their joint decisions herself, just as she has always done.

Germany, Italy, and Austria are bound together now, and although he is technically part of the Alliance, he feels more isolated than ever.

Damn Austria for being so much more popular, and so much more powerful.

Damn Germany and Italy, for aligning themselves with her without even thinking to ask him.

And damn him, for being just as weak as the whole Continent said he was.

"May the Triple Alliance last forever," says the messenger, "and may God bless its signatory nations."

"Yes," says Hungary finally, coming out of his reverie, "may God bless them."

He doesn't even bother to correct himself, to replace  _them_ with  _us;_ he knows his place, as he hopes Germany and Italy will know theirs. 


	4. The Trouble With Bosnia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> History buffs will know that Romania secretly joined the Triple Alliance too, in 1883, but for the sake of simplicity I limit it to three (although in this fic four) nations: Germany, Italy, Austria, and Hungary. This was also because chapter 3 was already extremely long and I didn't want to add yet another nation to make it much longer. Also, even though technically Austria and Hungary were one country, they were so different that I refer to them as separate countries. You will see later that when countries merge, they are still counted as individual countries and I refer to them as being "married," except in the case of Bosnia, because Austria is already married. Just a quick note to clear up confusion! Also I should warn you that this chapter is EXTREMELY long, it kind of got away from me. Enjoy the chapter nonetheless :)

_Moscow, Russia_

_July 1908_

Russia is alone and exhausted, the concerns of multiple nations weighing on his mind. First and foremost, of course, are his and Serbia's; then, of course, France's. They have been talking nonstop about war and politics, especially where Bosnia is concerned. 

He wants to strangle her, the little weak, would-be nation who is coveted by three nations: the Ottoman Empire, who owns her, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, who occupies her, and Serbia, who wishes to own her. He isn't sure why they want her so, except to extend their own reach, but he is tired of constant talks about her. The Ottoman Empire cannot hold onto her, and as much as Serbia pushes Russia to help her gain control of Bosnia, he knows that will start a war.

That leaves only Austria-Hungary.

Hungary, he knows, has little appetite for conquest. Hungary is the opposite of him, never up for war and expansion, while he has somewhat of a kinship with Austria. He shouldn't, as Austria hates Serbia and Russia is Serbia's protector, but he can't help seeing a bit of himself in the other Empire.

Bosnia is basically Austria's, anyway; it will only take a few moves to make it official.

Russia is ready to resolve this trouble over Bosnia. He knows it will infuriate Serbia and put Bosnia in a terrible position (he has heard so much about her claiming of Germany, which interests him and repels him all at once), but it will solve things for  _him._

_Dearest Austria,_

_I do hope you are well, and Hungary too, of course. Much has changed since 1878, when we agreed to that treaty in Berlin. I cannot help but feel that you were displeased with the outcome then, and that this displeasure has never quite faded. I wondered if you would be willing to come to Moscow and discuss new terms regarding your authority over Bosnia? I know the issue is one that has consumed you as much as it has me. I for one would be quite glad to put it to rest._

_I do apologize for not sending this to Hungary too, but I felt that he would not approve. Not to mention, we all know where the true power lies in the Empire._

_I will await your reply._

_Sincerely,_

_Russia_

He wonders if Austria will think him insane, or think that she can take advantage of him the way she has both Hungary and Germany. He smirks at the idea of her trying; he is stronger than he looks, but he supposes she is too.

Perhaps one day they will find out which of them would win in that struggle for power.

He hopes, however, that he will not have to face her across a battlefield. He is not ready for war.

It has been so long since he last saw Austria, but he can still imagine her face. He thinks of her, fills his glass full of vodka, and raises it to the memory of her, saying softly, "To peace, Austria, and to your victory in Bosnia."

_I'm sorry, Serbia._

 

 

_Vienna, Austria_

_July 1908_

Hungary receives a letter addressed to his wife. The return address is in Moscow, Russia.

Why is Russia writing to Austria?

"Austria!" he calls as he rushes to find her. "Austria, I have a letter for you!"

She is writing something in her office; she flips the paper over as soon as he comes in. Normally, he would question her about this, but the letter from Russia is weighing heavily on his mind. "I have a letter for you," he repeats, stressing the importance of it with his tone.

"From Germany?" asks Austria.

Hungary resists the urge to roll his eyes and says, "No. From Russia."

"Russia?" she asks, reaching for it. "Did you read it? What does he want?"

"No, I didn't. It's only addressed to you. 'Austria.' Not 'the Austro-Hungarian Empire.'"

She smiles, pleased at that. He does not bother to tell him how slighted he feels that even their enemy knows where the true power lies in their Empire; she knows, and it delights her.

She does not read the letter aloud to him, but a slight frown grows on her face. "Russia wants me to come to Moscow," she says. "How curious. He and I have not met since Berlin, thirty years ago."

"What?" gasps Hungary. When she doesn't respond, he prompts, "Read it to me!"

He doesn't expect her to oblige him, but she does. "Dearest Austria," she reads, "I do hope you are well, and Hungary too, of course." He makes a face at that, but she ignores him and continues reading. "Much has changed since 1878, when we agreed to that treaty in Berlin. I cannot help but feel that you were displeased with the outcome, and that this displeasure has not quite faded. I wondered if you would be willing to come to Moscow and discuss new terms regarding your authority over Bosnia? I know that the issue is one that has consumed you as much as it has me. I for one would be quite glad to put it to rest. I do apologize for not sending this to Hungary too, but I felt that he would not approve. Not to mention, we all know where the true power lies in the Empire." She smiles at that, but continues as though it were nothing. "I will await your reply. Sincerely, Russia."

For a moment, both nations are silent; then, finally, Hungary says bitterly, "You can't be seriously considering this."

"I can't help but consider it. He seems willing to give me Bosnia in order to avoid war, war that Serbia is so eager to cause," says Austria in a measured tone.

"Serbia is Russia's closest ally. He will not betray her, no matter what. To go to Moscow is suicide, Austria!"

"I don't know if it is," she says. "Russia is weary of war, as are Germany and I. If we could reach an agreement over Bosnia that does not give her to Serbia, and that does not plunge the entire Continent into war, I would be quite glad to be a part of it. If Russia is truthful in his letter to me, he is, too."

"Germany and Italy will be furious," he protests.

"Italy will, certainly. Germany...I don't know."

"You said yourself that Germany is in love with Italy. If it will anger her, it will anger him, too. Are you willing to lose both of your allies by meeting with Russia? He might not even be willing to give you Bosnia. This might be a ploy to get you to surrender Bosnia to Serbia," says Hungary.

"I said that Germany and Italy were lovers, not that they were  _in love._ That is a big difference. I don't trust Russia, but I have to take a chance, don't I? I don't care if Italy abandons me, but Germany...I don't want to lose Germany," says Austria.

"You  _do_ love him," accuses Hungary softly.

"No, I don't," says Austria flatly. "I truly don't. I enjoy Germany, and I need him, but I don't love him."

"Do you love me?" he asks.

There is a long pause, and then Austria says, "Hungary, now is not the time to talk about this. I need to write a letter to Germany. If he will leave me for meeting with Russia, then I won't do it. The Triple Alliance is first and foremost in my mind, above any possible gain of Bosnia."

That is a stab to Hungary's heart, but he is used to these by now. She does not love him, he knows, and she probably never will. He swallows his pride, as he does day after day, and walks out, leaving his wife alone to write to Germany.

 

 

Germany leaves for Vienna the moment he gets Austria's letter. She had talked about Russia and insisted that he needed to come quickly, citing the urgency of some matter over Bosnia. It seems there is  _always_ a matter over Bosnia; he wishes that Austria and Serbia would stop fighting over her, and he wonders if Russia feels the same, but pushes those thoughts away quickly. He has no kinship with Russia. He will never have a kinship with Russia.

When he gets to Austria's palace, he finds her alone in her room. Hungary has likely left for Budapest again, and he wonders if he is a coward for being relieved that her husband will not be there to witness their meeting.

"Austria," he murmurs, greeting her with a brief kiss on the lips. He expects her to kiss him back, or to take him as she always does (after all, they have not met in twenty-six years), but she directs his attention immediately to a letter she holds in her hand.

She gives it to Germany, and he reads it quickly. "Russia wants you to come to Moscow?" he asks with alarm. "Well, do you want to go?"

"I've been considering it," she says, and she says it like a confession. "I want Bosnia. Perhaps I am insatiable, but I do not want Serbia to conquer her. Bosnia is  _mine,_ and she has been so since Berlin; if Serbia were to take her, I could not bear the humiliation."

"You certainly are insatiable," says Germany with a small smile, "but I understand. I know why you want Bosnia. And I want you to have her. Bosnia is not Serbia's to have. Not to mention that Serbia is your enemy and Russia's ally. I would not be able to bear another conquest of Serbia's, either."

Austria smiles. "So you would agree to me meeting with Russia?" she asks.

"I don't think I could stop you," says Germany. "Have you forgotten the control you hold over me? God, that last time was..."

"I still think of that, from time to time," Austria admits. "I still think of you, more than I probably should. I do not want to lose you. But that is not simply for selfish, personal reasons; I need you politically. You are my most important ally. If you would leave me because of my meeting with Russia..."

"You wouldn't go, if I asked you not to?" asks Germany, stunned.

She smiles. "Don't get too drunk on power, but yes."

"I am worried that this is a trap," he says, "but I am not going to withhold approval. If you truly believe that Russia is being honest with you, and if you truly believe that you can get Bosnia out of this, then I am fully behind you."

"Hungary thinks Russia wants me to give Bosnia to Serbia," she says.

"Of course he wants that, but he knows you would never agree to it. He would not call you to Moscow for something as foolish as that. If he wants to negotiate with you, he is frustrated with Serbia and willing to give Bosnia to you to avert war. He does not want war with us," he says, pride twisting his lips into a small smile.

"Then I will meet with him," says Austria, kissing him softly. "With you behind me, I can take Bosnia."

"God, she has no idea what she's in for," says Germany.

This makes Austria laugh. "Not like  _that._ "

"Oh, is it really out of the question for someone like you?" he asks.

There's a pause, and then Austria admits, "No."

Germany shakes his head, but he's smiling. "Perhaps I should write to Bosnia ahead of your annexation," he says, "and warn her that her new mistress is a predator."

"Perhaps I should kill you," says Austria, equally as pleasantly and softly.

He knows she isn't serious (after all, she just admitted that she needs him, which he never thought he would hear her say), but her words still elicit a shiver from him. They may be nearing equality, but she will still make it obvious to him that she is above him.

For now.

 

 

_Moscow, Russia_

_September 1908_

Austria arrives in Moscow secretly and silently, not wanting anyone to know where she is. Everyone fears for her, and she understands why: Russia is not known for his kindness, and since Serbia is her enemy, no one would expect him to be happy to see her.

It feels odd to her to walk into another nation's home to see them; usually, nations come to her.

"Austria!" says Russia, his voice cheerful. "How good it is to see you!" He kisses her hand formally, and says in a quieter, more conspiratorial tone, "I knew you had come, you know. The Kremlin is brighter now that you are here."

Austria laughs, but while a comment like this could have made her blush centuries ago, she is very used to flattery now.

"Thank you, Russia," says Austria, smiling slightly for his sake.

"It is genuine. Germany and Hungary are lucky bastards," says Russia, winking at her.

"They learned long ago that a little respect goes a long way," she replies, somewhat annoyed with Russia's patronizing tone. "Yes, I suppose they  _are_ lucky bastards, but at times their experience can be rather...bruising."

Russia laughs heartily, and says, "I would expect no less of the Austrian Empire."

He says nothing of Hungary, and for that she is glad, even though she knows Hungary will feel terribly slighted when she reports to him that Russia called her 'the Austrian Empire' throughout their negotiations. Wanting the flattery and small talk to stop, Austria meets Russia's eyes and says in a low, serious voice, "As enjoyable as this is, Russia, I believe that we have important business to discuss. You called me here to speak of Bosnia."

"Of course, of course. Forgive me; I wanted to compliment the most beautiful empire in Europe after not seeing her for thirty years. I forgot how business-minded she is, which is a grave error," says Russia.

He's so formal, and Austria both loves it and hates it at the same time. She prefers Germany's more modern, at times more aggressive and at times more timid approach. They don't meet often, but Germany knows her well, in every way possible.

Austria smiles, and says, "And the most beautiful empire in Europe greatly appreciates your compliments, but she wonders what you are considering about Bosnia."

"We cannot say a word to Serbia about meeting here," says Russia, his tone low and conspiratorial, and he moves closer to her. "If Serbia knew that I was considering allowing you rights over Bosnia, she would be absolutely furious with me."

"So you  _do_ want me to take Bosnia? Hungary worried that you were springing a trap on me."

Russia laughs, and says, "No, no, of course not. I would not call you all the way to Moscow to trick you, Austria, and you would probably end up turning the tables on me, anyway. But we both know that the Ottoman Empire, God rest his soul, is dying. He no longer has the strength to hold on to Bosnia, which is why you were able to occupy her after Berlin. But that was thirty years ago, and the Ottoman Empire at least had a bit of strength left in his dying body. There is no strength left in him any longer. And it's hard for him to justify keeping Bosnia when he plans to let a section of his territory--Bulgaria, I believe is what he calls himself now--get his independence. Serbia wants Bosnia, badly, but I know that her taking Bosnia will end up setting the whole Continent aflame. I do not want war over Bosnia."

"No one wants war over Bosnia," replies Austria.

"Of course not. But everyone wants Bosnia. The Ottoman Empire, who owns her, you, who occupy her, and Serbia, who wants to own her. The Ottoman Empire cannot keep the peace; he is too weak and frail to hold himself together, let alone keep Bosnia close. And she is disgruntled with her old master; she wants him gone at any cost. She wants independence, but that, of course, cannot happen. Serbia wants her, too, wanting to extend her influence and her borders, but if I allow Serbia to annex Bosnia, she will have war with the Ottoman Empire, who sees this as an invasion of his territory, and with you, who would see it the same way. I know Serbia cannot win a war against you, but I could not allow her to lose. You understand me?" says Russia.

"We would have war with each other. And you don't want to fight me."

"That is correct. And I believe that you do not want to fight me, either."

"You are correct in that."

Russia smiles. "Good, good. Since we do not want to fight each other, we would agree that Bosnia should not be controlled by the Ottoman Empire, or even by my ally, Serbia, yes?"

"Absolutely," says Austria, wondering how this turn of events is even possible.

"That leaves only you, and I'm sure that you want Bosnia too?"

"Absolutely," repeats Austria.

"Then we ought to begin negotiations, lovely Empire," says Russia. "As eager as I'm sure we both are to get this going, Serbia will have my head if I don't give her something."

Austria smiles. "Let us begin, then."

Russia reaches into his desk, and pulls out a bottle of vodka and two glasses. He fills both glasses, and hands one to Austria. "To peace," he toasts, and clinks his glass against Austria's.

They reach an agreement rather quickly: in exchange for Bosnia, Austria will withdraw her troops from Sanjak. 

"I know I shouldn't say this," says Austria, vodka heavy on her lips and the desire to conquer heavy on her mind, "but I always wondered what a powerful nation like you was doing with a little scared thing like Serbia..."

That makes Russia laugh almost conspiratorially. "God, Austria, I've been wanting to say a similar thing all night. I always wondered what a powerful nation like you was doing with a scared little thing like Hungary."

"Hungary was more powerful, once," says Austria softly. "Granted, never as powerful as me, but we had potential, Hungary and I. Or at least, Hungary thought so. I simply saw a way to expand my borders and my influence. After all, married nations have double the armies and double the land."

"So you simply used him?" laughs Russia. "What a devious Empire you are, Austria..."

"What about you? Why Serbia?" asks Austria.

"I feel a need to protect her," says Russia. "Our citizens are of the same nationality, after all, and it is my job as an empire to protect the people of Slavic descent. Serbia cannot protect herself, we all know that, so I must be there to protect her. Just as you will not leave Hungary, although we all know that your heart lies with Germany."

"I do not love, Russia," says Austria flatly, taking a long drink from her glass and looking him straight in the eye. "Love is impractical. And if my heart lies anywhere at all, my heart lies in conquest. That is what has sustained me for centuries, and that is what will sustain me for centuries more."

"No wonder you want Bosnia so."

"Of course. I have wanted to take Bosnia for decades. That region is  _mine._ My troops occupy her, and through that fact alone the whole Continent knew it was inevitable that I would take her, either by diplomacy or by force. I have not taken another nation since I married Hungary. I have missed it so."

Austria's eyes shine when she talks about conquest; she wonders if Russia can sense her excitement.

"There is such lust in you," murmurs Russia, suddenly very close. "For blood, for power, for pleasure...my God, you have never been more beautiful than you are right now."

He comes even closer and captures her lips with his; for a few moments, the two nations kiss each other insistently, until both break away, breathless.

"Oh, Austria," he whispers, so similar and so different to Germany all at once. "Oh, beautiful, beautiful Empire, you don't know how tempting you are to me."

She doesn't say anything to that, only looks at him with desire clouding her eyes, and, taking this as an invitation, he kisses her forcefully on the lips before beginning to work on her neck, enjoying her fast, heavy breathing. He undoes the laces holding the top of her dress together and moves lower, making her moan; then, suddenly, she thinks of Germany.

Germany, Italy, and Hungary, the others in the Alliance with her.

She came here for Bosnia. She did not come here to take a lover.

But, God, Russia is  _experienced._ She can tell by the way he's working on her, knowing just where to touch her and kiss her to make her moan in a way an Empire should not. Hungary has never made her feel like this, and even Germany, with all his industrial prowess and willingness to do what she wishes, cannot compare.

"Oh," she whispers, "oh, Russia..."

Russia moves to her skirts now, and before desire can completely take her over again she cries, "S-Stop!"

"Austria," Russia murmurs, desire lacing his voice, "let me please you, beautiful, lovely Empire. Come and lay with me once, here in Moscow, where no one will ever find out. In the morning you will go back to Vienna with my assurance of cooperation over Bosnia, and it will be a full victory for you."

His hand slides up her skirts, and she moans as he works her in  _just_ the right places; even now, she knows that they have to stop, but she doesn't want to.

"I am yours, Austria," whispers Russia, his voice husky in her ear. "I am yours for the night."

That reminds her irresistibly of Germany, and everything the Alliance stands for. She joined Germany and even her old enemy, Italy, to go  _against_ Russia. What would Germany and Italy and even Hungary think of her if they knew that she was here in Russia's office, vodka heavy on her lips and Russia's hands all over her, moaning and squirming in pleasure?

"God, I want you," says Russia.

"And I want you," says Austria. "But we...we can't. We are enemies."

"You don't feel like an enemy," says Russia, "And I doubt I do, either."

She moans as he continues to pleasure her, but between gasps, she manages to get out, "But we  _are!_ What would our allies think? Germany, and Italy...and for you...Britain and France..."

He withdraws his hand from her skirts and says, "You're right. We ought not to do this."

Austria nods, and tries to collect herself. She's not sure how they ended up like this, and she isn't even sure if she really wanted him to stop, but she knows, for the sake of the Alliance, and for the sake of his Entente, they had to.

"You will probably always tempt me, Austria," says Russia. "I will always think of tonight when I look at you."

"But you can never have me. As far as I can see, we will always be enemies," says Austria, and although there is some sadness to her voice, it is mostly flat and final.

He nods, and gets up, opening the door for her so she can walk out of his office.

She got what she came for. The rest she can blame on the vodka and never let any nation in her Alliance--any nation on the Continent, really--know about.

 

 

_Vienna, Austria_

_October 1908_

Austria calls Germany to Vienna soon after she returns from Moscow. "It wasn't a trap," she says in a measured voice. "Russia wants to give Bosnia to me."

"Really?" says Germany, surprised.

"Yes," she says. "Russia wants to avoid war at any costs, and he knows that by allowing Bosnia to stay with the Ottoman Empire, especially with Bulgaria wanting his independence, there will be no peace in the region. Although it would benefit him more if Bosnia went to Serbia, he knows that the Continent will end up at war if she does. So, to have peace, he wants me to have Bosnia, and he wants Serbia to have Sanjak."

"That seems reasonable," says Germany. "I just hate the idea of you negotiating with Russia."

"I know," says Austria softly, a note in her voice that he can't quite understand. "I hate the idea of it, too. But I want Bosnia, and I miss conquest. If I take Bosnia, will you stand behind me?"

"Yes," says Germany. "I do have to warn you, though, Italy will not."

"She doesn't want me to have Bosnia?"

"She is fervently opposed to the idea."

"I don't give a damn what Italy wants," she spits. "She will have to deal with it, unless she wants to betray us both. And it would be us  _both,_ right, Germany? You wouldn't put that Mediterranean hussy over me?"

"I wish you wouldn't call her that, but no, I won't. You are my closest ally and dearest friend, Austria. And it's you that I will support, always," he promises.

"Then I see no reason not to annex Bosnia," says Austria with a smile on her face.

Germany worries if she is leading him down a dangerous path, but he knows that he cannot stop her. She is still the more powerful of the two empires, and she is hell-bent on conquest, even if Germany does not quite see the point of it.

 

 

"I'm going to take Bosnia," Austria tells Hungary proudly.

"Do you expect me to be proud of you?" he asks acidly. "You went to the capital of an enemy nation with your lover's blessing to conquer a state that I never thought was worth having. Do you expect me to rejoice at the idea of  _going to war_ over Bosnia?"

"I'm not going to go to war! After all, Serbia would not want war with the entire Triple Alliance," says Austria smugly.

"What you don't understand, Austria, is that Serbia has three nations behind her, too."

"I'm not afraid of the Entente. They will not fight me. Not over something like this."

Hungary is not sure if she is right, but since he cannot stop her, he will pray that she is.

 

 

Austria officially annexes Bosnia on the 8th of October, 1908.

She is proud when she writes her letter to Bosnia, calling her to Vienna. Now that her territories are swarming with Austrian soldiers, she herself will have to stay in Austria's capital. It must be humiliating to a state who was so close to independence, but Austria has no mercy.

Bosnia's reply is short, but dutiful: she will leave for Vienna as soon as possible, and she will not protest her annexation.

Austria knows that Bosnia does not want to be with her. But she doesn't have a choice; Russia and Austria made that choice for her, that night that they had too much vodka and crossed boundaries that they must never cross again.

She waits for the condemnations from everyone with a stake in the outcome with Germany by her side. 

They will not bother her.

No nation on the Continent has the power to stop her.

No nation on the Continent is willing to risk war.

 

 

_Moscow, Russia_

_October 1908_

"I cannot believe that the Austrian bitch actually annexed Bosnia!" shouts Serbia. "Will no one back me?"

"Of course. I back you," says Russia, although all he can think about right now is Austria.

"Do you really? I've been thinking about the annexation, and wondering how the hell it could have happened. I realized one thing, and that one thing is pretty damning for you, Russia."

"What is that?" asks Russia, trying to keep calm, but wondering what Serbia could have possibly found out.

"Austria does not want war. Neither do her allies, Germany and Italy, and Italy would not agree to something as insane as this, anyway. Germany might be insane enough to back her, but not if he knows that you would declare war on both of them in support of me if she were to annex Bosnia. This annexation could not have happened without you agreeing in some form to it. You may not be helping her, but you are not going to stand in her way," says Serbia.

"What? You're crazy," says Russia.

"No,  _you_ are. You are throwing away everything we had! For what? Austria?"

"No, no! Serbia, she did not consult me about this annexation. Her entire alliance with Germany and Italy was to oppose me. Serbia, Serbia, I love you.  _I love you._ And I would not support any action that slighted you in any way," he says, kissing her gently.

He hopes Serbia believes his false words and soft kisses, because if Britain and France find out about his agreement or his night with Austria, he is finished.

 

 

_Vienna, Austria_

_October 1908_

Condemnations of Austria's imperialism come from virtually every nation on the Continent except Germany. Hungary knows that Austria gets them even before he does, and he knows equally well that they do not bother her.

The only reassurance she needs is from Germany, and he is always on her side.

Serbia is the first to condemn Austria, and both of them laugh at that. Of course Serbia would condemn Austria's annexation of Bosnia. Serbia wanted to take Bosnia for her own.

But it is only a condemnation, and not a declaration of war.

Montenegro, a border nation to both Serbia and Bosnia, is the next to condemn her.

He expected this, and so did she. Neither of them care.

But then, hot on the heels of the border nations' condemnations, is a condemnation of Russia.

"Wasn't Russia the one to give you Bosnia?" asks Hungary, puzzled.

"Yes," says Austria. "But I know why he did this. He wants to placate Serbia, as well as his more significant allies, Britain and France."

The condemnation that he would never expect is the last to come.

It's from Italy.

Austria and Germany knew that this was coming, and they share a look that has more meaning than Hungary could possibly read when he tells them.

But Hungary didn't.

Why did Austria ally with someone who is not even loyal to her? Who would publicly condemn her actions in Bosnia?

Oh, my God, is Austria leading the world into war?

And is he willing to follow her?

 

 

The words of Italy's condemnation hang in the air as Austria turns to face Germany. "You have to support one of us," says Austria. "Me, or Italy."

"I know," says Germany.

"So?" prompts Austria.

Italy is the sort of nation that he could give his heart to. She is kind, and she is generous, and she would give her life for him. She is not at all like Austria, who would take him, control him, use him, and then discard him, if she had the chance.

Austria is the sort of nation to fear, but the sort of nation you need, politically.

Italy is the sort of nation he should give his heart to, but Austria is the one who has it.

And Austria is the one who has his support.

"I support you," says Germany. "Above Italy, above everyone."

 

 

Bosnia arrives in Vienna promptly, just as she said she would. 

She is slim and beautiful and trembling, everything Austria would be if it was five centuries ago and Austria's first time off of her own soil.

She's so young, born of an independence movement in the Ottoman Empire that could have gotten all the conspirators killed (and will still probably get the conspirators killed, even though Austria has rights over Bosnia now), and nothing at all like the Empire that owns her now.

"Bosnia," says Austria in a friendly tone that hides her frustration with the young state, "welcome to Vienna."

"T-Thank you, A-Austria."

"You would prefer Serbia, no doubt," says Austria softly. 

"I-I..."

"It's all right, Bosnia. You don't have to love me. All I require from you is obedience."

The younger nation, still trembling all over, says, "O-Of course."

"But I'm right, yes? You want to be with Serbia?"

"I want to be independent," says Bosnia, a little courage creeping into her voice. She stands a little straighter and looks Austria straight in the eye. "I don't want to be with Serbia or the Ottoman Empire or with anyone. I want to be a nation in my own right."

"Like Bulgaria?" asks Austria.

"Yes. Like Bulgaria," replies Bosnia, adding at the end, although somewhat hesitantly, "I deserve independence as much as him."

"Unfortunately for you, the Ottoman Empire was prepared to grant Bulgaria's request, and Russia was prepared to let him keep his independence. But you, the subject of so much controversy and strife, the source of such competition between his ally Serbia and I...you were never going to become independent. Bosnia, love, you have to understand that independence is won with blood or diplomacy, and there is not enough blood in your entire nation to overcome the blood that would be spilled over you."

"Why do so many want me?" 

Austria smiles at her, almost maternally. "A young state that used to belong to one of our enemies, young and helpless, unable to defend herself against invaders, right in the middle of the volatile Balkans that nations across the Continent still have the foolish hope of stabilizing? Why  _shouldn't_  we want you, when you could do so much for us? Or, rather, when you could do so much once we had ownership of you? I am already married, you see, to Hungary, but you will still be living with me here in Vienna. Yes, I know you would prefer Sarajevo; we all prefer our own capitals. But I have to admit, nations are so much easier to control when they are alone on foreign soil, and I have every intention of controlling you."

"Austria," says Bosnia softly, "am I ever going to see Sarajevo again?"

"Perhaps," replies Austria, thinking of Hungary, who had only been sent to Budapest when she was in Vienna with Germany. "Perhaps you will. But you will not be the same, and neither will Sarajevo. The golden city of your childhood, where you spent your days making revolution and dreaming of independence, is gone. You will never see it again."

That makes Bosnia cry, and Austria feels no sympathy for her. She turns away in disgust, and snaps, "Pull yourself together."

When Bosnia's tears stop, Austria turns back to her young prize. "You're going to be in Vienna for a good long while," she says. "So get used to it. Enjoy the city, and don't cause trouble for me. You're going to be okay, as long as you do as I tell you, and as long as your citizens refrain from causing my soldiers trouble."

"I'm going to survive," murmurs Bosnia, almost inaudibly.

"Yes, you are," replies Austria.

"Then I suppose you're better than the Ottomans," says Bosnia, looking at Austria hopefully. "If I could live under him and survive, then I can survive you, too."

"Yes," says Austria. "But no more revolution, and no more dreams of independence. That is gone. Your nation is simply a part of mine."

"I know," says Bosnia sadly, but Austria thinks she can hear a touch of defiance in the younger nation's voice.

Bosnia is hers now, hers after so much trouble, and Austria is never going to let her go.

 

 

_Moscow, Russia_

_October 1908_

"We can't let Austria keep Bosnia," says Serbia, for what feels like the thousandth time.

"Serbia!" exclaims Russia finally. "I know how you feel about Austria and I know how you feel about Bosnia, but from time to time you have to actually be practical. Imagine the blood that would be spilled if you were to declare war on Austria...er, I mean, the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Two nations, united under one monarchy, would immediately be against you, and that's not even counting their allies. Industrialized, strong Germany and clever Italy, would immediately leap to her, sorry, their, defense."

"Italy is on our side," says Serbia.

"I don't think you understand the terms of the Triple Alliance. If the Empire were to declare war on you, Italy would have to remain neutral, so she would be of no help to them, but no help to us, either. But the Empire is not going to declare war on you. If there is war over Bosnia, you will have to be the one to declare it in order to make your claim on her. In that case, Italy would be bound by her alliance to the Empire and to Germany to enter the war on their side."

"We can win that war," insists Serbia.

Russia rolls his eyes and looks at Serbia. "No," he says firmly. "We can't."

"So we just let Austria have Bosnia? God knows what is happening to Bosnia..."

"Serbia, unless you and I want to lose everything, including our capitals and our sovereignty, which I certainly don't, we are going to sit back and let Austria do what she will with Bosnia. Bosnia survived under the iron hand of the Ottomans; she will survive this too."

"I..."

"...understand why this has to be done, and accept Austria's rights over Bosnia," Russia finishes for her.

Serbia grimaces, but repeats the words after Russia: "I understand why this has to be done, and I accept Austria's rights over Bosnia."

There. 

Peace has been maintained.


	5. Closest Ally, Dearest Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been literally months since I've updated this. I'm really sorry. Hopefully I made up for it with this chapter, and more are coming. Enjoy :)

_Vienna, Austria_

_September 1912_  
  
Austria sits at her desk, reading a letter from Germany. The two nations correspond often now, being part of the same Alliance, but she always has the feeling that she sees less of him, and hears from him less, than Italy does. It shouldn't bother her (after all, she is married, and she isn't a nation who falls in love), but every time months go by without a letter from her closest ally, it feels like he has stuck a knife in her chest.

His letter to her this time is concise:

_Dearest Austria,_

_I need to see you, for personal and political reasons. However, there is unrest within my borders, and I cannot justify leaving my capital at this time. Would you consider coming to Berlin? I could show you around, show you what I have to offer. It is cold here, but I could warm you up just fine._

_Yours always,_

_Germany_

The first time she reads it, her blood boils. So she is to come to him now, as Italy does? She, the Austrian Empire, one of the most powerful nations on the Continent, is to come crawling to this young upstart? What would the world think of her?

Hungary would tell her to write an angry letter back to Germany telling him to piss off. That he comes to her, and not the other way around. That she is still the powerful one in the alliance, and she will always be able to do what she likes with him. 

But is that the way she wants things to go?

She doesn't love Germany. She cannot, will not, love Germany. But she wants him to stay with her, and although she will never admit it, she needs him.

Perhaps some time in Berlin would do her good.

So, although she feels she is doing this against her better judgment, she writes back:

_Dearest Germany,_

_I don't normally do this, but I am willing to come to Berlin, just this once. I do hope you have plenty to offer for me there._

_We need to discuss the current crisis in the Balkans, and Bosnia, who is causing trouble despite the fact that she now resides within my capital. She is as much, if not more, a prisoner of my will as Hungary, but she is not nearly as obedient._

_I shall see you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Austria_

It's not long after sending her letter that she gets an ecstatic reply from Germany, and not long after that that she finds herself packing a bag for Berlin. She never thought she would do this; she thought it would always be Germany coming to her, and despite the feeling that she's bending to his will, she's somewhat excited to see Berlin. She hasn't been there in years, not since the Conference when she met the young upstart that is now her lover and ally, and when he gave her Bosnia (in name, at least), just to prove himself to her.

Perhaps she will be able to get something else from him in Berlin this time.

 

_Berlin, Germany_

_October 1912_

Germany meets Austria at the train station, beaming and kissing her as she arrives. Ordinarily, he would be afraid to show such affection to her in public (she is married, after all, and Italy would not approve of it), but the fact that she actually agreed to come to Berlin for him makes him willing to bend all the rules for her.

"There's so much I want to show you," he says, smiling brightly.

She's looking around, taking in the sights and sounds of his capital, and he hopes he sees approval in her gaze. It's been a long time since she's come here, and he hopes that time has been kind to Berlin. Or at least, he hopes she'll think so.

"Berlin has aged well," she says finally, then turns her gaze on him. "So have you."

His powerful lover is  _here,_ in his own capital, speaking approvingly about it, and about him. He's going to take her home (to  _his_ home), and sleep with her, in  _his_ bed. She hasn't said a thing about Italy yet; she hasn't even considered the fact that Italy could be here. He knows she couldn't have forgotten about the nation she sees as her rival, but perhaps she knows that he would do anything to keep her, and that if she would be willing to come to Berlin for her, he would tell Italy to go back to Rome.

Things are finally going well for him.

 

He shows her the palace where his Kaiser lives, the new factories blowing black, billowing clouds of smoke into the sky, and most importantly his military, which he's been working hard on building. She smiles, looking out at all the soldiers standing at attention, all the weapons ready to be used, and she says softly in his ear, "You've done well for yourself, Germany."

"This is for you, too," he says softly. "If anything were to ever happen to you..."

"You would come to my defense. I know."

"Of course I would," he says, putting an arm around her waist, which she surprisingly allows. "My closest ally, my dearest friend."

She smiles softly at him, almost lovingly. "Closest ally, dearest friend," she repeats back to him.

He kisses her gently, and he carries a little smile with him for the rest of the day that only Austria could give him.

 

They're lying side-by-side in bed one morning when Austria talks about the Balkans, and what she's heard from Bosnia. Her newly conquered territory won't tell her much, but what Bosnia has said is worrying. The Balkan nations think they can defeat the Ottoman Empire, and if they're right, the entire power balance of the region would topple over. Even if they aren't, but they try, the powder keg that is the Balkans would explode.

"All of Europe could go to war over the Balkans," says Germany worriedly.

"I know. That's why it's so important that we maintain control over them. I don't like Italy, you know that, but if she can help us keep the balance of power in Europe, then she's worth keeping. If not...you know how much you and I don't want to go to war," she says.

"I wouldn't mind going to war," says Germany softly, "as long as I had you on my side."

"Germany," she says with a look of alarm, "we  _cannot_ go to war right now, do you understand me? You have the military, perhaps, but they haven't been properly trained yet. And I don't have my military in any kind of shape to go to war. You have a large military, but not enough military for the both of us. Especially with your commitment to defend Italy."

"You're my priority."

"I'm glad you think that now, but when Italy is falling apart, upset and vulnerable and at the mercy of the Entente, you'll go running to her. You'll have to. I know you, Germany, and you're nothing if not protective of the ones you love."

"I love you," he confesses. "More than Italy, more than anyone."

She won't confess the same thing to him. She still won't let herself love him, even though she knows that she could. She could spend the rest of her time with Germany. They are meant for each other, but she won't let herself have him, not properly.

Instead she leans over and kisses him, and lets that be her confession.

She hopes it will be enough for him.

 

_Vienna, Austria_

_October 1912_

Hungary's patience is at its absolute limit. His wife is in Berlin, cavorting with her lover, and she didn't even have the kindness to let him go to Budapest. No, instead she left him behind to look after her increasingly unstable region as well as his own, and deal with Bosnia.

Bosnia is a great deal more pleasant than Austria, although she is stubborn and wants little to do with either of them. He supposes this is what Austria would be like if she was younger, less power-hungry, and forced to spend her days in another nation's capital.

Perhaps this is what she's like with Germany right now, except quite willing.

Thoughts of Bosnia and Austria and Germany fill his mind, swirling around in a toxic cocktail, and he can barely think of anything else.

He's only forced from his thoughts when he hears an announcement that chills him to his core.

It's short, told to him in a panicked, breathless voice.  _There is war in the Balkans. The Balkan League has declared war on the Ottoman Empire, and Russia is supporting him. It is widely believed that the Ottoman Empire will not be able to hold up against them._

Russia is causing instability in the Balkans, the Continent's powder keg. 

Is the whole continent going to explode now?

God, he  _needs_ Austria. She would know just what to do. She somehow manages to outwit nation after nation; she was even able to get Russia to give Bosnia to her over the interests of his own ally, Serbia. But she's away in Berlin with Germany, and despite how helpless he feels, his pride won't let her write a letter addressed to her lover's capital confessing his helplessness to her and begging her to come back to help him.

All alone on foreign soil, in a marriage that has long since gone cold, he looks out the window at the streets and buildings he has come to know so well. 

He doesn't want to think of gunshots ringing out, breaking the night's sleepy silence. He especially doesn't want to think of invading armies coming towards his and Austria's palace, calling for their defeat, calling for their heads.

Damn her for being with Germany and not her own husband.

Damn the Balkan League for being so troublesome.

Damn Russia for all the instability he's causing on the Continent.

And damn him for thinking he could handle getting involved in this mess.

 

_Berlin, Germany_

_October 1912_

Germany looks so good like this, his eyes shining with newfound confidence, at the helm of an army that Austria knows can protect them both. He smiles as they survey his waiting soldiers, standing at attention, and the weapons shining in the autumn sun.

"This is for us, Austria," he says, smiling. "All for us."

He kisses her gently, and she pulls him closer, kissing him more forcefully. "Take me home, Germany," she murmurs against his lips. "Take me home, and show me what else you can do for us."

He smirks and obliges; soon they're home, and he's leading her to his bed, when she stops, shoves him against the wall, and pins him there, her eyes full of predatory intent.

She's missed this, how easily she can have her way with Germany. It's been many years since their first encounter, and those years have given him stamina, but they have not given him resistance, and she's grateful for both of those things.

She throws him on the bed and mounts him, working them both to a climax, and then lying beside him as they both recover.

She's going to kiss him again, to start up again, when a messenger knocks urgently at the door. She's about to tell them to go away when Germany calls, "If it's important, come in."

The messenger comes in, then says apologetically, "I'm so sorry, but this message really cannot wait."

"Get on with it, then," snaps Austria impatiently.

"There is war in the Balkans," says the messenger, his voice shaking slightly.

"What?" cries Germany.

"There is war in the Balkans," he repeats.

"We heard you, idiot," says Austria, rolling her eyes. "What he means is, how the hell did this happen?"

"The Balkan League declared war on the Ottoman Empire. They want complete freedom from him, and they think that together, they can defeat him."

"But that's suicide," says Germany. "Those little nations couldn't do a thing against an Empire."

"Alone, you're right--they're helpless," says the messenger. "But they aren't alone. Another Empire is backing them."

"I know who that would be," says Austria, thinking suddenly of Russia and that vodka-soaked night alone in his office. "The Empire who revels in creating chaos, and who wants the end of the Ottomans--and the end of me."

_He wants more than the end of me._

"The end of us," Germany corrects gently, and she nods.

"Are you going to declare war on Russia?" asks the messenger.

"We have to talk to all members of the Triple Alliance before deciding anything," says Germany carefully, not wanting to offend the nation lying beside him, but knowing he can't leave Hungary and Italy out of the decision either. 

He expects Austria to be angry with him, but she only says in a resigned voice, "We need to call Italy and Hungary to Berlin, then."

He can't imagine the two of them actually sitting in a room with her husband and his lover, but the four of them actually have to meet now. There is war in the Balkans, which they had hoped would never actually come to pass, and if they aren't careful, it could spread to the Continent.

It could consume the Continent.

 

_Vienna, Austria_

_October 1912_

Hungary knows he should have expected the message he got, but it doesn't stop him from being furious about it.

It's a summons, to Berlin.

He has to go to Berlin now, to crawl to the capital of his wife's lover, to meet with the other members of the Triple Alliance about the Balkans.

He hates every part of it. He had nothing to do with creating the instability in the Balkans: that was his wife, and her lover, and their insistence on conquering Bosnia. Their insistence on provoking Russia and Serbia as much as they could, laughing in their faces and daring them to do something to stop the Alliance.

What if this is the time the Entente reacts?

The Balkan League already has the backing of one of the Entente powers. The most aggressive and the most idiotic one. 

Will Britain and France be foolish enough to follow Russia, and to back the Balkan League against the Ottomans? Will they be foolish enough to try to take the Balkans at the risk of losing peace and letting war race across the Continent?

He stares at the summons, and then out the window, back out at the streets of Vienna.

He thinks he can hear the gunshots now, see the invading Russian soldiers.

Are Germany and Austria calling him to Berlin to declare war on the Entente?

Why are they calling him to Berlin at all? In every other instance, Austria was all too happy to make all of their joint decisions herself, shoving the documents at him for a cursory signature or simply smiling at all the other nations and explaining that she'll sign for the both of them.

Is it to get his approval on something that will surely light Europe aflame?

Or is it so he can talk sense into Germany, and stop the war?

He hopes desperately that it will be the latter. Industrialized, militarized Germany may be ready for war, and Austria may think she is protected by her lover, but he knows all too well that they are not ready to fight Britain and France.

_Please, let them be sensible._

 

_Berlin, Germany_

_October 1912_

Italy arrives in Berlin, and waits for her lover at the train station. He's always picked her up before, kissing her sweetly when he sees her, and carrying her suitcase to his home. He's never wanted her to leave so desperately before, either, but she's glad he wants her back.

Except when Germany arrives to pick her up, he isn't alone.

Austria is by her side, a small, possessive smirk adorning her lips, and Germany is looking at her, only at her, like she's the only nation in the world.

"Italy," he says politely when he finally sees her. He embraces her formally, coldly. It's nothing at all like his usual greeting.

His warmth is all for Austria now, she supposes. Austria has taken everything that he has.

She's about to say something to Austria, something to remind her who Germany really loves, but the look on Germany's face makes the words catch in her throat. Instead, she says in a painfully polite voice, "What are we going to do about the Balkans?"

"That's exactly what we called you here to talk about," says Austria, in a similarly painfully polite voice. "As a member of the Triple Alliance, you ought to weigh in on the situation."

"I don't want to go to war," says Italy, suddenly feeling very small compared to the two Empires in front of her. "I know you two do, but..."

"I don't want to go to war either," says Austria, her voice softening. 

As much as she hates Austria, Italy feels a sense of relief come over her when she hears that. Germany wants to go to war, she knows he does, and she doesn't want to disappoint him or go against him, but she's not ready to fight the Entente.

Austria is the stronger of the two. She's willing to tell Germany what he needs to hear, and Germany is willing to listen.

"Let's go talk to Hungary," says Germany, saying nothing of the war. "He arrived just a couple of days ago."

_Even Austria's impotent husband is more important to them than I am. Does Austria really have that much power over Germany?_

 

Sitting down with Germany, Austria, and Hungary is horribly awkward.

But with such a serious situation before them, there's little time to exchange jabs. They have to focus on the Balkans, on the war, on Russia. So they discuss strategy and leave out what Germany and Austria must have been doing these past days in Berlin, before she and Hungary got there.

She hates their priorities, and she resents everyone in the room, but she needs all of them.

They need her, too.

They're all in this together, and they have to find a solution.

 

To Italy's relief, the decision is against war.

The Triple Alliance will remain neutral in the war in the Balkans, although all of them are hoping for an Ottoman victory.

She knows Germany is disappointed, and she knows that it's because of Austria that he agreed to stay out of the war, but at least the Continent is somewhat stable.

How long will that last? How long can it possibly last, when even allies are at each other's throats?

She sees the hatred in Austria's eyes, the lust for battle in Germany's, and the exhaustion in Hungary's, and terror grips her.

Someday they will all go into war together, and only some of them can come out. 


End file.
